Unexplained Passion
by fiery.fallen.angel
Summary: A Mirandy fic. Miranda is driving Andy demented with her attitude towards her - does her boss, the Ice Queen, really care or not? Also includes a shock relationship for Emily later
1. Chapter 1

_**My first fanfic, please review :)**_

I stifled a yawn as I glanced down at my watch. Midnight. Sighing, I flicked my eyes back to the computer screen and continued to type. My day had started as mediocre, and it had progressed to sheer dismal. I hadn't been particularly enthused to see the return of Eduardo (he had been in Portugal for the past month) that morning – as much as I loved the man, our daily 8am ritual was not something which needed repeating. Lucky for me, Miranda had been in later than usual, so despite being forced to sing the chorus of Heart's "Alone" at the top of my voice, I had made it in before her.

I was becoming restless, irritated at how long I had been sitting in this same seat when I heard _her_ moving from her desk.

She strode out of her office, her usually impassive face registering surprise when she saw me seated in front of my desk.

"What are you still doing here?"

My lack of sleep answered with a disgruntled, "Working."

For a split second, the corners of her eyes tightened, but the flicker of emotion was masked instantly. The Ice Queen was good, I'd give her that.

She turned and moved towards the double glass doors which led to the elevator out of the Elias-Clark building, but paused after only a few steps. Slowly, she curved her body back to face me, her eyes never leaving mine.

I was frozen to my seat, consumed with a sudden desire to be nearer to her. Gradually, her Prada heels were inching closer to me, until she was standing directly in front of me with only the desk between us.

She seemed to be debating something, hints of confusion and desire flashing over her features as she stared at me, almost unblinkingly. Suddenly, her mask was back, her decision made as she placed both her hands on my desk and leaned forward. Slowly, neatly, she lifted one leg to kneel on the smooth wood, and in one easy movement she was on all fours in front of me.

And I still couldn't move.

"Why so sarcastic, Andrea?"

The corners of her mouth flicked upwards as I gasped, struggling to form a single coherent sentence. Her face was a mere inch from mine, every breath I took was catching in my throat – what was she _doing_?

"Well?"

That one inquisitive, seemingly seductive word was the end of my control, instantly I moved my lips to hers and fiercely crushed them together, my hands moving to her shoulders in an attempt to keep her near me.

Swiftly, she had pulled away, moved off my desk and walked away with her natural strut.

Moments passed with me slumped into my chair, staring where her beautifully long legs had been just moments before.

Shakily, I stood and followed very slowly. There was no way I wanted to catch up with her now. I travelled back to my apartment in shock.

Almost a week later, I was about ready to burst. How, just _how_, could this woman continue like nothing had happened? I couldn't carry on pretending anymore. It was impossible; Miranda easily ignored my presence all day long unless she had a demand – and even then, never once did she look me in the eye.

Whilst staring down at something that could easily have claimed her attention, she reeled off utterly pointless orders – I was starting to believe the facade myself, but I somehow knew that she was either embarrassed or regretful of our behaviour.

By Friday, exactly a week later, I'd officially had enough.

That morning, I had done everything in my power to look damn good in a vain attempt to get her attention; my make up was immaculate, I had curled my hair into natural-looking waves but the best part was my attire. The Prada skirt was in the most beautiful shade of purple, one I knew was Miranda's favourite, while the Chanel blouse was the perfect silvery-grey. I was showing an acceptable amount of flesh for work, but if she really did have any form of attraction towards me, it was enough to catch her attention. My highest Jimmy Choos completed the look, along with the matching jewellery I had "borrowed" from the Closet.

And that wasn't even the best part. I smiled to myself. Knowing Miranda would be behind me in less than 30 seconds, I deliberately took on a slight strut, flicking my hips just a little more in rhythm with each step.

The smile stayed on my face until I reached the doors and saw the exact same grin on Eduardo's features.

_Please, not today!_ I pleaded with my eyes, but he didn't care. He knew, but he didn't understand, what it was like to work for Priestly.

He mimed through the door that I should sing "Fashion" by Lady Gaga before I be allowed through the door. Glancing round, I saw Miranda's car pull up, and I frantically tried to mime through the glass that this would cost me my job.

In return, all I got was a tiny grin. The man was evil.

I could hear her heels against the sidewalk as I began,

_I am, I'm too fabulous,_

_I'm so fierce that it's so nuts,_

_I live to be model thin,_

_Dress me – I'm your mannequin._

At this point, I heard a small cough behind me. Eduardo's smile turned into hysterical laughter. There was no way he was letting us in until I finished the entire song.

"Andrea. Is there any reason we are not entering the building? Did you lose the ability to open doors when you gained bad taste in music?"

At this point, Eduardo spoke loudly through the glass.

"She ain't comin' in here til I hear ma sonng!"

"I'm so sorry, Miranda. He does this every day, he's not kidding about not letting us in." I babbled in her direction.

"Then I suggest you finish."

I gaped at her.

"_Sing."_

I began from where I left off, the French part of the song.

_J'adore Vivienne habillez-moi_

_Gucci, Fendi et Prada_

_Valentino, Armani too – _

_Merde I love them Jimmy Choo._

_Fashion, put it all on me_

_Do you wanna see these clothes on me_

_Fashion, put it all on me_

_I am anyone you want me to be._

At this point, I had turned away from Miranda entirely and was giving Eduardo a look of pure hatred.

By the time he buzzed us into the building, and I instantly marched through the doors at a pace that matched Miranda's for once. Usually, I was a good few metres behind her because she disapproved of running, but not today. I stormed ahead – or so I thought. She was beside me, keeping pace with apparent ease.

"Your accent needs working on."


	2. Chapter 2

After that comment, she didn't say another word to me for the duration of the day.

_Typical._

Emily disappeared earlier than usual, and I was left to wait for the Book alone.

Miranda had recently departed without her coat and bag, meaning she was somewhere in the Elias-Clarke building and I would be seeing her again at some point. I was determined to make her notice me, and since the carefully arranged outfit hadn't worked, it was time for some damage control. That morning, I had been her goofy assistant Andrea, someone who couldn't gain entrance to a building without busting a lung singing – but not anymore.

As quickly as possible, I fixed my make up using the "webcam trick" well known to all _Runway _employees and organised my hair. Diving under my desk, I removed an entirely separate outfit I had stowed away neatly and began to change into it.

Ripping off my clothes, I stood up in the darkened office in just my underwear. This outfit wasn't exactly easy to slip into, I realised, as I struggled to pull up the zip.

I hopped around in circles, arching my back in a vain attempt to reach – and looking like an absolute fool – when I heard the door open. I whipped around to find Miranda simply staring at me, taking in my outfit slowly.

"I... I can't reach the zip."

Ignoring me entirely, she walked into her private office as I stood, flushed with more than a little embarrassment. I heard her neaten her already impeccable desk, and then nothing. It was almost as though she was pausing, and Miranda never paused. She was decisive; it was one of the many qualities the millions admired her for!

Striding out of her office, she moved towards me. Closer and closer, until I felt myself trembling slightly, sheer anticipation was overwhelming me; my breathing became uneven as she grabbed my shoulders and roughly turned me away from her. Her touch changed as she reached the zip; she clearly appreciated this dress. Why wouldn't she? It was, after all, Valentino. Soft fingers slid the dress tighter around me until the zip had reached my bra strap. She toyed with the lace for a moment, before sighing softly and sliding my dress closed.

"Why exactly are you quite so impressively dressed, Andrea? Attempting to catch someone's attention, perhaps?"

My mind went blank. What was I supposed to say? The woman would see straight through a lie, I was certain she _knew _this was all for her – but how could I say that?

"You should know, Andrea, that whomever it is you are wearing this for is indeed appreciative." She murmured.

She held my gaze for a second more, before marching into her office and locking the door behind her.

_Okay, now I have to go out somewhere – this dress deserves more attention than that._

I called Emily, knowing her and Nigel were out on the town, and she answered almost instantly with where they were and a demand to "get my arse there immediately" in her upper-crust British accent. Smiling, I made my way out of Runway, away from Miranda Priestly's lingering perfume.

Under an hour later, I was marching into a packed-out club in search of the red head, spotting her perfectly manicured hands waving around above her head before noticing her drink of choice – double vodka and lemonade – spilling out of the glass she held onto her already soaking clothes. I giggled, pushing my way through crowds of dancers to get to her.

Seeing me, she let out a scream and Emily Charlton, first assistant to the most respected and renowned editor who ever lived, literally jumped into my arms. She wound her arms around my neck tightly as the drunken crowds surrounding us cheered and laughed at her bravado.

Her face broke into a hugely excited grin as her favourite 90s club song came on; she dived out of the tight embrace I had to give for fear of dropping her, grabbed a drink from Nigel – who had appeared suddenly – and shoved it into my hands, before beginning to sing entirely the wrong words. That is, of course, until it reached the only line she knew.

"BABY IF YOU WANT MEEEE, YOU GOT TO SHOW ME LOVEE!"

I doubled over, my sides already aching from laughing as I realised Nigel had joined in, waving his arms around as they moved in continuous circles around me, encouraging me to chug my drink in one between belting lyrics.

_Oh, what the hell._

I downed the drink, and gratefully accepted the shots pushed my way from various people I wasn't aware I knew. Within half an hour, I had reached the same level of intoxication as Emily and Nigel – and I was having the time of my life. Despite that every song seemed to relate to Miranda in some way, and despite that I was imagining exactly how I would sing some of them directly to her face, just to see her reaction.

Normally, I wasn't a fan of "mainstream" music, but it didn't stop me from singing along to a song questioning "why don't you love me, when I make me so damn easy to love?" or even Madonna's "Borderline" had me acting as though Miranda was in front of me, watching me sing

"_I don't want to be a prisoner so baby won't you set me free?_

_Stop playing with my heart, _

_Finish what you start, _

_..._

_If you want me let me know,_

_Baby let it show,_

_Honey don't you fool around."_

Through my stupor, I attempted to focus without falling flat on my face, but my balance wasn't playing nice. I crashed straight into someone, and unfortunately whoever it was couldn't quite handle the full force of my weight.

I could hear Emily and Nigel gasp, before they both erupted into drunken giggles as they descended to help me off the poor person I was probably crushing.

"I'm so sorry!" I gasped out, holding out a hand to help them up.

In response, I received an icy glare only one person in the world could pull off.

Shit.

My drunken smile had faltered, Emily and Nigel were both frozen, staring at Miranda. She stood up quickly, never taking her eyes away from me. Through the haze of alcohol, I vaguely registered that she was much closer to me than she had ever been.

Emily emitted a high pitched giggle, before stepping closer to Miranda and I, breaking what can only be described as our staring contest.

"You're going to have to start downing tequila if you want to catch up to us, Miranda!"

Nigel cackled, finishing his cocktail and rushing to the bar to order 4 tequilas with the works. He returned almost instantly, and before Miranda could really consider her options she was holding the small shot glass daintily and sighing, resigned.

Almost an hour and a half later, all four of us were equally hammered – so much so that Miranda Priestly _squealed _when the DJ announced it was the beginning of "Michael Jackson hour". She grabbed my hips and pulled me nearer to her, swaying me to the beat and pressing her forehead into mine. I wound my arms around her neck, our noses almost touching.

My senses felt about twenty times heightened; I was hyper-aware of how her fingers were slowly tracing patterns on the small of my back, how startlingly blue her eyes were.

But all good things must come to an end. She sighed, and despite how much alcohol she had consumed, managed to extract herself from my arms and begin to walk away in a straight line.

_If she thinks she's getting away this easily, she's in for a shock, _I thought.

I caught hold of her slender hand in mine, and pulled her back towards me so forcefully that she was caught unawares, and her lips met mine.

For a few seconds, our mouths moved together but she pulled away what felt like instantly and began to march away from me.

Within seconds she had vanished from my sight entirely, and I was left, bereft and alone.

Collapsing through my door over an hour later, unexplained tears streaming down my face, I was almost perfectly sober. What had just happened? I had danced with my boss. The Ice Queen, the Devil herself... and I had kissed her.

She had kissed me back. But then she had pulled away and left.

I walked straight into my bedroom, stripping off my sodden clothes – had it been raining on my way home? - and then went to my en-suite bathroom to run a warm bath.

I sighed as I sank into the water, its warmth engulfing me.

When I saw the first signs of daylight, I pulled the plug, letting the water drain away from me and hugging my knees. I couldn't stop the tears.

I don't know how long I had been in that position before a knock on the door broke me out of my thoughts, my constant wishing that I hadn't fallen for her, that I hadn't decided to move so quickly with her.

Sighing, I slowly stood up. As I wrapped a towel around myself, I realised I was shivering beyond belief; my teeth chattering and my whole body quivering with cold.

The knock sounded again. Wiping the mass of eye make-up currently running down my cheeks, I managed a small "Who is it?"

"Andrea, let me in."

I would forever insist that in that moment, my heart stood still. I walked at her idea of a glacial pace; my legs could barely hold me up.


	3. Chapter 3

I swung the door open, looking at the floor as I became aware of how threadbare the towel I had chosen was. I heard her intake of breath but I didn't move.

Gently, her hand reached up and cupped underneath my chin. Slowly, she lifted my head up until she could see my face clearly – but I still couldn't look at her.

"Andrea, look at me."

I opened my mouth to say something, anything to avoid having to do that, my eyes still fixed on the floor, but she had already ran out of patience. Before I even knew what had happened her soft lips had brushed mine, her arms around me so tightly my heart started to race, a faint flush gathering around my collarbone. She leaned away from me slightly and glanced down at the same time as me.

We moved at the same time; as I tried to pull the falling material tighter around me, she had forcefully grabbed a fistful and ripped it away from me.

"Miranda!" I gasped, "What-" She touched a slim finger to my lips, smiling slightly. Her arms wrapped around me when I began shivering harder.

"I'm sorry, Andrea. I've never wanted something I'm not technically allowed so badly in my life. I tried to distance myself; I wanted to hurt you so you would see what everyone else sees. A heartless bitch."

I was suddenly very aware of what she was wearing. Her statement trench coat had come open slightly, revealing nothing but a black transparent bra and a typical size zero thong. I slipped my hands inside the coat, testing the brakes.

She giggled – giggled! – And in one swift movement, her coat was next to my towel.

"Come on." I took her hand and started to lead her to my bedroom, but before we had even taken a few steps her suddenly strong hands had turned me to face her. In one swift movement her lips were on mine again, she was forcefully gathering me in her arms as I wrapped one leg around her in an effort to have her closer to me. We moulded together instantly, our tongues moving together, her sweet breath seeping into me.

I had no control, in one movement I had lifted her into my arms and I was running to the bed as her lips met my neck. She began to nibble gently, and I felt my knees almost give out as we reached the bed; I flung us both on top of the covers, arching my back so I was perched over her. Our eyes met, and she bit her lip gently. A fire lit in her eyes, her hands moved to my hips, her fingertips pressing into my skin. My breath caught, I couldn't look away from her eyes, couldn't move. We froze for a second, she was breathing heavily as she looked at me.

Her hands moved to my rib cage, and then trailed down slowly, past my stomach, down down – she pulled away suddenly, her breathing still erratic. In a split second she was off the bed and by the door, adjusting her underwear and retrieving her coat, wrapping it round her tightly.

I gaped at her as her eyes became apologetic, she stammered out an excuse which I didn't even hear and rushed out of my apartment.


	4. Chapter 4

_**I'm so sorry it took so long to update, school took over! I put the last one up as quick as I could, which is why it's so short, so here's part 4 **____** enjoy, and any reviews are always welcome**_

I sat at my desk miserably for hours, with no work to distract me from a Miranda-less office. Staring at my blank computer screen and drumming my fingers was hardly the most demanding of tasks, and my already frazzled brain was crying out for a diversion, anything so that I wouldn't have to run over and over the events of the previous night in my mind. Emily had been out on an errand for the past hour, and through the morning she had been chosen to accompany our boss on a job that should have been mine. Not that she was complaining, any time Em spent out the office with Miranda enforced her idea that she was the closest person to Miranda in the whole building, someone with a real inside view of La Priestly. I rolled my eyes at the thought, as far as I was aware, Emily and Miranda had never had any kind of relationship deeper than an Editor-in-Chief and her assistant should – unlike me. But I couldn't exactly tell Emily that I'd had the devil herself in my apartment on Friday night, kissing me and – and then running away.

What the hell had that been about? I'd spent the whole of the weekend curled in my bed, only moving to go to the bathroom or get food, going over and over possible answers in my mind.

I closed my eyes, elbows leaning on the desk and gently massaged my temples in an attempt to soothe my thoughts. Hearing the door into the office open, I looked up, startled, as Nigel strolled in, fabulous as ever in Armani. He looked at me, frowning.

"Andy? What's up?"

I opened my mouth to answer and found myself unable to do anything but wail. He ran round my desk and caught me in a hug so I could sob quietly into his chest, but I was already controlling myself – there was no way I would let Emily or Miranda see this. I pulled away and fixed my make-up as he watched me, a worried look crossing his face repeatedly as he tried to understand. I stood up, smiled at him and excused myself to go to the bathroom, grabbing my cell phone as I did so. Rushing away, I knew his eyes were on my back, taking in the clothing I was wearing. The combination was passable, I supposed, but not quite _Runway _standard. I dashed down the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, and ran into a cubicle.

Minutes later, I was a lot calmer, even focused as I walked back to what _Runway_ employees referred to as the Devil's lair. I stopped for a second outside the glass door to steady myself with a deep breath, and heard Emily's voice mid-flow in conversation.

"... so Andy just broke down?"

And then Nigel: "Yes. I don't know why, she ran out before I could get it out of her. Do you think..." He paused.

"... it could be something to do with Miranda?" Emily filled in.

"We've both seen the way they watch each other when neither one is looking. We saw them get drunk and dance together; we think they may have even left together. And now you say Miranda is in one of the worst moods in the history of _Runway_, and Andy is randomly sobbing. It wouldn't exactly be the first time she's broken her one of her assistant's hearts."

He paused again, and I could see Emily glaring at him. Steeling himself, he sped over his question,

"Emily, I have to ask – what happened between you and Miranda?"


	5. Chapter 5

**What do you think of the Emily/Miranda thing? It's not in any way a parallel to how I'll write Miranda and Andy, just so you know **** Appreciate how many people have put on story alert/favourited this!**

_Emily – The Memories_

_As Andy walked into the room looking a little shell-shocked, Emily turned and slowly sat down at her desk, her eyes betraying her. She never let herself think about Miranda while she was in work. It was only when she arrived back in her own apartment that she let herself remember. _

_The year before Andrea had arrived at Runway, Emily had started to give up on dating. The creepy guys she attracted just weren't worth the sex they brought with them – they were never any good anyway. She hadn't been seriously fulfilled for a very long time, if ever, she had realised miserably. But Emily Charlton could never figure out what was missing. _

_It took a lot for her to admit her feelings to herself; it always had, so it was only when she had been working for Miranda Priestly for almost a year that she started to acknowledge how she felt towards her boss. It left her in turmoil; it wasn't as though Emily could ever tell Miranda._

_Or so she thought._

_Working late one night, she was the only person left in the office as she waited impatiently for the Book. The art department and her were really going to fall out if they didn't start perfecting the Book earlier; this was the third night in a row she was still here at 11:30 and she was ready to drop. But that wasn't exactly the reason for her impatience. It didn't help her mood, of course, that she was so exhausted, but her main motives for getting the mock up to Miranda's town house were simply that she wanted to be nearer her, and she wanted to keep her as happy as possible. Keeping Miranda as happy as possible had proved difficult; she had always been hard to please. After a while though, she had become warmer to Emily – even after Emily had accidentally walked in on her husband shrieking that he was sick of "not getting any". _

_When the Book was finally ready, Emily took off at a run, calling the car in the as she manoeuvred out of the office whilst trying not to drop or crease Miranda's dry cleaning and keep the Book intact. Arriving at the town house, Emily was as quiet as possible as she let herself in and hung the dry cleaning up, and it was only when she glanced around whilst placing the Book on the table with the flowers that she noticed Miranda watching her .She had this predatory gleam in her eyes that Emily will forever recall perfectly without closing her eyes. A step towards her assistant led to another, and another until they were inches from each other. Emily's breathing became erratic, and Miranda began to smile. She had what she wanted. _


	6. Chapter 6

I walked in on Emily stuttering that she had no idea what Nigel was talking about.  
They both gasped as I slammed the door behind me, unaware of how long I had been listening.

"Hi Andy..." Nigel said softly, his eyes guarded as he watched me. "You okay?"  
I nodded, not looking at him, my eyes focused on Emily. She, too, was watching me intently, but her eyes betrayed her. Emily... Loved Miranda? Was it reciprocated? Is that why she'd left me? My brain started swirling; I felt my vision begin to cloud as I moved to sit down on my desk. I opened my mouth, but Emily beat me to it.  
"Do you love her?"  
I started to protest, but it did no good. Both my colleagues simply looked at me, processing my blushing cheeks and my bright, tearful eyes. Thankfully (or not) Miranda chose that moment to strut into our conversations, mild surprise registering on her features as she looked at Emily's expression before focusing her attention on me. Her eyes changed, the mask dropped for a split second to let me see the apology in them before she moved past us to inquire as to why Nigel wasn't currently in his own office finishing the project on Runways 20th anniversary. He jumped into action, explaining that he was here to see her for an opinion on such and such; their voices trailed off as they moved away into Miranda's private office, whilst I watched Emily sink into a consuming train of thought.

Emily-  
_Emily didn't have a moment to think before Miranda's need was merged with her own, their mouths moved together as Miranda hastily pulled up her assistants skirt to feel the smooth thighs, scrabbling fingers becoming insistent. Emily gasped as she felt Miranda inside her, but sunk into the shock with a moan of pleasure, her questions dying on her lips. She had been about to inquire as to where the husband was, where the twins were too; her mind had become preoccupied, filled with nothing but Miranda as she pushed herself down harder onto those slender hands, ones she had admired so many times.  
Miranda had not been watching this, however. She was aware of the power she held over her assistant, an awareness that was only magnified by how Emily groaned her name one final time before Miranda stepped away from her. Nevertheless, this power had no meaning to her. It wasn't the first time she had been with an assistant, after all._

Once they had established a relationship as something much more than professional, Emily and Miranda saw each other whenever the Editor so desired. She would reluctantly admit that she wanted her assistant to accompany her somewhere so she could satisfy needs far beyond her job description. For Miranda, though, this was as far as it went. Attractive as Miranda found Emily, it was purely physical. She felt no earth-shattering response to the sex, but it helped. Helped her stay in control. Helped her awareness of how far people would go to please her.  
It wasn't the nicest way to live her life, Miranda would think, but it had to be done to keep her sane. She never dwelled on her assistants emotions - she never had. This was the third time she had been in this exact position; the "straight" assistant suddenly becoming attracted to their female boss, telling themselves it was okay to feel this way because who didn't? She was Miranda Priestly. There wasn't a single person who couldn't resist her. The first time it had happened, the girl had stayed with her, giving her everything she needed whenever she needed it until Miranda had fired her for a minor "offence". Really, though, Miranda had simple grown bored of her. The second girl had been a more controlling person than the first, and when she started questioning exactly what Miranda wanted from her, the Editor in Chief let her go instantly. She already had a husband who attempted to run her life, and because of this they were on the brink of divorce after a mere 4 months married.  
And now Emily. For her it was so much more than just sex and an assistant job. She had fallen for Miranda, so Miranda did the only thing she could be bothered to. She simply stopped calling Emily out of working hours. She never again asked her to do anything out o her job description, never again went within a metre of her. After weeks of this, Emily finally demanded what was going on. She stormed through Miranda's town house when she was supposed to be leaving the Book for her, past the place where they had first kissed, first made love (in Emily's mind. Miranda had never referred to it as anything more than fucking) and stormed into the room she knew Miranda would be occupying. She found her alone, and threw questions at her in her very British accent; "What's going on? Is there someone else? Have you just forgotten about me?" her voice became higher and higher as she forgot her assistant stature.  
Miranda simply looked on, her face betraying nothing. "Emily, I suggest you go home and sleep. Perhaps see a doctor; you seem to be disoriented. And Emily?" as the younger girl stared at her in disbelief, "Don't ever shriek unintelligibly at me again if you expect to keep your position."  
Emily stared, open mouthed, trying to control herself. "This really meant that little to you? That's... That's it?"  
Miranda frowned. "What had you expected? A marriage proposal? I had thought you understood me a little better than that, Emily." There was a pause while the two regarded each other, one unaffected and the other numb from heartbreak momentarily. 

_"That's all."_


	7. Chapter 7

_**A big thank you to the reviewers; Auraya Kairi Black, Loves His Donna , anonymouth and caradens (: much love!**_

It had been an entire week since Emily had told me the full story of what had happened between her and Miranda, and I still felt ill. The way she had worded it was careful, but her eyes were full of caution and hurt as a warning to me to simply stop feeling anything for her. I had processed this over 7 days, constantly obsessing over it until it was all I thought about until I would finally fall into a disjointed and restless sleep.

Eventually, I was beginning to come to the conclusion that it was a very foolish presumption to believe that I meant anything to Miranda. There were differences between the way she had treated Emily and how she had been with me; for instance, with Emily she had had no reservations about having sex with her – but with me she had looked suddenly guilty and made her escape. I still didn't know what that had been about; I'd made it my mission to stay out of her way while I figured something out, barely speaking to her even when she asked a direct question.

It was a Friday, finally, and the only date I had was with an enormous tub of Ben and Jerry's and the DVD of Love Actually. It was, after all, almost Christmas, so I figured it was allowed. Curled up in my armchair wrapped in blankets I settled down to the most "Bridget Jones" night of my life. So far, I thought with a grimace. When the film was almost finished, and I was beginning to doze off in a nest of warmth, a loud banging brought me out of my stupor. I sat bolt upright, confusedly looking at the TV to see where the sound was coming from until I realised. Someone was knocking. I sighed, dragging myself out of my blanket cocoon and unceremoniously yanking the door open - only to see vivid red hair that could belong to just one person.

"Hi Emily." I said croakily, coughing to clear my unused throat. She smiled awkwardly and stepped past me when o gestured for her to come inside.

"So... What's up?" I said weakly. We weren't exactly close enough for her to be visiting; I was surprised she even knew where I lived. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again.

Taking a deep breath, "Andrea - Andy." she corrected. "We should really talk. Um... Well. About Miranda, I know that you were... Are..." she stopped, looking at me in desperation.

I sighed. "It was a shock to the system, that's all." We smiled a little at the use of Miranda's favourite phrase. Emily sat down on my couch, taking my hand and tugging me into the seat next to her.

"I think it's different with you, Andy. You just have to make her chase you, not be the one chasing her - you might think she'd want to be in charge in her love life as much as she is everywhere else but it's not the case; she won't give up until she has you. Trust me."

I looked at her, bereft.

"Trust? How can I trust that she won't take what she wants and leave? It wouldn't be the first time," I spat out angrily. She looked hurt for a second, but masked it as she stood up. Clearly she had learnt from the master. She brushed the hair back from my face and smiled down at me.

"What have you got to lose, Andy?" and she was gone. I groaned after the door had slammed, and curled into a ball under my duvet.

Monday went by in a boring haze. Miranda wasn't in but no one seemed surprised, I must have forgotten some meeting she was attending, and she didn't appear all day. I had little to do, so I left early, mentally exhausted with a hammering headache. Stepping in front of my apartment while I tried to find my keys, I noticed the handle of the door was sticking at an odd angle, and pushed it down. The door opened easily. My stomach dropped, I had definitely locked the door this morning. Slowly asserting pressure on it, the door swung open quietly, revealing my apartment. The images flashing in my mind of broken furniture, empty drawers and vacant rooms were forgotten as I took in my lounge. It was immaculate. Hadn't there been used plates and cutlery on that table? And hadn't my quilt been strewn across that chair?

A noise and someone would have to scrape me off the ceiling, I thought ironically as I stepped into my neat living quarters. I closed the door behind me and sighed, walking through to the kitchen. "What the..." there was food everywhere! Neatly stacked piles of chopped vegetables, meat cooking in a dish inside the oven, bread on the chopping board with a knife beside it, waiting. It was so sinister, simply because I had no idea who had done this.

I whipped around as I heard my bedroom door open, opening my mouth to scream as I saw someone begin to emerge - until I noticed a shock of white hair rush towards me. "Andrea! What are you doing home? I... I was just..." she stepped away from the look on my face, surreptitiously closing the bedroom door tighter as she did so.  
"What are you doing in my apartment Miranda?"  
"I came to explain, to apologise for what happened that night. I didn't want you to think that you were anything like the others, that I didn't care when I do. So much. And that was why I left so suddenly, I was afraid that I would leave you when we were... When I felt even more for you than I already do, and hurt us both. But I'm determined not to leave. I don't think I can, unless you tell me to. So I'm here to cook you a meal, as an official first date. If you'll let me." she smiled awkwardly. "Right. Well. How was your day?" she finished limply.

I couldn't help it. I broke into peals of laughter, giggling uncontrollably at her expression. "For a first date, you sure sound like you've been married to me for thirty years!" She smiled again, relieved. Taking my hands in hers, she led me to the kitchen and sat me down on a clean worktop so I could talk to her as she cooked. I knew I couldn't hold anything against her. She had me - but I couldn't let her know it quite yet.  
"What are you making?" I asked.  
She shook her head at me, "It's just a simple dish, a recipe I use at home for the girls. They like it, it's a favourite," she turned away. "I should have expected you to be able to cook."  
She smiled. "This isn't even the best part, Andrea."  
I felt a shiver run through me at what promise that held. "I didn't know you'd be home early so this will be about 20 minutes..." her voice trailed off as she closed the distance between us.

"What shall we do?"

"Come here." I ordered. She did so, obviously unused to obeying, normally in charge. We were exactly the same height when she had her 6 inch heels on and I had 4 inches on.  
I led her to the sofa, where she sat daintily.  
"While dinner is cooking, why don't you find something for us to watch?" I asked, smirking inwardly at the mild disappointment on her face - she had obviously expected something entirely different. I handed her the remote and headed to the bathroom to freshen up. When I re-entered she was flicking through legions of channels, shaking her head at almost everything. I stood watching as she spotted my DVD collection and picked one out hurriedly, tapping her fingers impatiently when the machine didn't open instantly. I chose to remain silent until the adverts before the film started,

"What are we watching?" I sat down next to her.

"The Notebook," she answered easily.

"Trust you to pick the most miserable film in history." I rolled my eyes at her.

"This is beautiful! It's not miserable at all, it's romantic," she crossed her legs, and we settled in to watch.

A little while later, after we had eaten and finished the film (and I had stopped crying at the ending) Miranda stood up. "I have something to show you," she said, looking more than a little nervous.

I was intrigued, so I let her pull me up and lead me to my bedroom. When she opened the door, I saw not only my usually incredibly untidy room impeccably neat, but a bed, beautifully made up, with rose petals carefully sprinkled over the top. There were candles on the surrounding tabletops, and in the background my favourite song was playing – You've Got the Love. I looked at her, my surprise obvious, and she smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

_**AN: I am so sorry it took so long to update, but it shouldn't take anywhere near as long in future now I'm back into the story. SO, to recap, Andy has found Miranda in her apartment, and after they eat dinner together Miranda showed our Andy that she had a surprise for her in her bedroom – with her favourite song playing in the background. Sweet :P**_

_Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air  
I know I can count on you  
Sometimes I feel like saying "Lord I just don't care"  
But you've got the love I need to see me through_

I was breathing hard. She hadn't even touched me yet and already I was hyperventilating, to her amusement. She looked at me, grinning - knowing exactly how I was feeling.  
"Miranda?"  
Within a second her face was an inch from mine.  
"Mmm?"  
She leaned forward, and her lips touched mine ever so gently, her hands resting on my hips. The kiss deepened, and I wrapped my arms around her neck to hold her to me. Her hands clutched at the material of my top; I could see her losing control before my very eyes and I loved it. Slowly, lovingly, she removed all of my clothes...

_Sometimes it seems that the going is just too rough  
And things go wrong no matter what I do  
Now and then it seems that life is just too much  
But you've got the love I need to see me through_

And directed me gently towards the bed.

She was hovering above me, both of us naked, every bit of me on fire when she kissed a trail from my neck down to my stomach, leaving tiny bite marks on my exposed skin, until -

"I love you, Andrea."

For a long moment we stayed, simply looking at each other.

_Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air, but I know I can count on you_

"I love you too, Miranda."

_You've got the love I need to see me through. _

The song ended, but we barely noticed. Miranda was an expert in every aspect of her life.

Waking up in Miranda's arms isn't something to be taken lightly, and I was so glad I knew that. She'd been married three times, and I bet that none of her ex husbands had ever woken up with her wrapped around them after a night like ours. I wondered if she'd ever worked as hard to win someone as she had with me.

Probably not, I decided with a smile. In the brief history I knew of Miranda's romantic life, she had the odd affair that never managed to hit the tabloids and never lasted for any length of time – after she got what she needed from them her lovers were discarded without a second thought – and had been married an impressive three times. The first lasted no more than six months before it became apparent that he couldn't handle Miranda's fire. The second, father of the twins, spent most of their marriage in the beds of various other women – and the third in the bed of his one true love; his assistant, Brad.

Odd that she ended up in almost exactly the same position.

But Miranda was single now – as far as I knew. She was. She had to be. My stomach clenched as the thought occurred to me that someone else had been wrapped in these arms, or would be. No one belonged here more than I did.

I had never been possessive before her, I realised as she stirred next to me.

"Andrea?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you look so worried?"

"Oh. Do I? Sorry, I... Just thinking. Umm..."

She sat up suddenly. "Oh my god. Oh my god, you regret it don't you?"

"What? Miranda, how could I regret that? I would never regret you."

But she still didn't seem satisfied, staring at me with a frown creasing her beautiful features.  
"Then what, Andrea?"

"I don't know... I was just thinking that I'd never been possessive before now." I said, blushing.

"Possessive? I see." A small smile replaced the frown. "Come on, Andrea, we're going out today."

She jumped out of the bed with surprising energy for someone who had only recently woken up, wrapping a sheet around herself and diving for the bathroom. A moment later, she ran back towards me. "Aren't you coming?"

"But I thought you were getting a shower." I said, confused.

"Yes, Andrea." She raised her eyebrows, a crooked smile gracing her face.

It took me a second. "Oh..." I grinned and bounded after her.

When we were both ready, Miranda decided that we should go out for breakfast after I offered her a choice of questionable cereal or dry toast.

"You don't have butter?"

I shook my head.

"Right, we're going out."

She eyed me carefully as I locked my apartment, tapping her fingers impatiently. I put my hands on my hips and grinned at her. "What are you staring at?"

"You're moving at a glacial pace again, Andrea. Hurry up."

I rolled my eyes and took a step closer to her, my face inches from hers, and wrapped my arms around her waist. Leaning in, I kissed just below her ear and slowly moved my lips down to her collar bone. She gasped and her hands grasped my shoulders for a second, before she moved me away from her and shook her head.

"Breakfast. Let's go."

Taking my hand, she led me out the door and into the sunshine.


	9. Chapter 9

Many would consider life with Miranda Priestly to be far from easy. They would, of course, be right. It had been two months since I began to consider her my girlfriend - two months since she insisted on being the only other person I allowed between my sheets, in fact. Not the most romantic way to ask for exclusivity, but that was Miranda, I supposed. On the surface, everything was wonderful between us.

Underneath, our relationship was far from perfect.

I had seen problems in our future, of course I had, but – foolishly – I had expected them to be far away, assuming we would have a lasting relationship for more than two months before I started to doubt her. Doubt myself. Something I hadn't done in a very long time.

In high school, I was just barely coming to terms with being considered as a bi-sexual, so realising that I wasn't actually interested in men at all was a problem. Being surrounded with homophobia had made it expressly difficult to come out to my parents, and they hadn't exactly welcomed the news. It was only went I went to university and began meeting people "like me" that I understood that there was nothing wrong with me, and suddenly I could relate to other women who had struggled with who they were for so long. Quickly, I was both more myself and more accepted than I had ever been – and although I would never admit it, approval had helped me because I had seen that a person falling in love with someone else isn't sinful.

The love I had for Miranda was no less valid than the love between a straight couple. I _knew _that – but it became obvious that she wasn't so sure.

"Andrea, listen to me. I just don't think it's anyone else's business what we do when we're together! I know that as soon as everyone finds out, my ex husbands will come crawling out of the woodwork in some desperate attempt for money and tell the press that they finally knew the reason why I was so frig-" She cut herself off and took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

"You are not frigid, Miranda." I took hold of both her hands in mine and kissed them. "But you misunderstand. Coming out, telling the world about our relationship, is not primarily about sex. It's about expressing the love we have for each other freely, proving we haven't done anything wrong because this changes nothing! You can still be the Ice Queen, everywhere but the bedroom," I smiled at her. She regarded me for a second with troubled eyes before standing up and slowly walking out of the kitchen. I wondered how much I was prepared to do for her. Hiding a huge part of myself, constantly wondering whether or not she loved me – because surely if she did, she would publicly announce it? Or was that simply conceited?

We continued to work together as usual, albeit a little awkwardly after that conversation. I still visited the townhouse, but less frequently than before, and I found myself alone in my apartment more often than not. I was becoming depressed, lonely without Miranda and the friends I had unknowingly rejected to be with her. Of course, they were unaware that I had rejected them for Miranda because she was busy romancing me rather than giving me impossible Prada-orientated orders.

Working for Miranda was even beginning to change now she had decided to go through e-mail, Emily or Nigel every time she had a request. I didn't know whether to be upset or simply irritated that we had taken four steps backwards in our relationship, when an idea struck me. There was to be an event, one of the biggest in _Runway_ history – a celebration of Miranda Priestly. She was to be revered for her life dedicated to the magazine, and had been encourage to present new and fresh ideas for "the next twenty years" she would be working there. Surely there was no better night for her to present the newest, freshest thing in her personal life as well as her professional?

"Miranda. We need to talk."

"Andrea, you above all should understand how furiously busy I am preparing for this infernal event-"

"Before you curse me into the fiery pits of hell, listen to me. That infernal event is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about."

She took off her glasses and placed them on the table in front of her, before leaning her elbows on the desk and intertwining her fingers in front of her face. Waiting.

"Don't you think, maybe, that I could go with you?"

"What are you talking about, Andrea, you're obviously coming with me – you're my assistant!"

"I meant as your partner."

There was a pause as she regarded me. A few months ago, her gaze would have scared the living daylights out of me. A few weeks ago, it would have made my knees go weak. Now, I simply let her look.

"Why would you think that's a good idea?" She said, finally.

"Because you're supposed to be in love with me!" I all but screamed at her, the emotions I had hidden from her for entirely too long escaping before I could stop them. But she didn't look affected, or shocked by my outburst. She simply sat, still staring at me, almost with curiosity.

"I do love you." She stood up and walked towards me with her arms outstretched. "I do, but it's not as simple as that..." she sighed as she took me in her arms, nuzzling into my neck. I didn't move, rooted to the spot with my arms by my sides. "Andrea, please...I... okay. Alright, we'll do it. We'll go together. I'll tell them, all of them, in my speech how much I love you. I'll prove it, if that's what it will take I'll do it."

"I want you to _want_ to do it, Miranda."

"There is nothing I want more than for everyone to know that the Ice Queen belongs fully to you. That doesn't mean I'm comfortable with people writing that you are nothing more than a mid-life crisis, soon to be dropped in the gutter. That you're a fool for believing I won't give up on you like I have all the others. Because it's not true, darling."

I wrapped my arms around her then, smiling carefully before kissing her fiercely.

The day of Miranda's celebratory event rolled around much quicker than I expected it to. I hadn't seen Miranda properly outside of work for a week or so, and I couldn't wait to get her home that night. Our relationship seemed to have flourished so much since we decided to tell the world about our love tonight, although both of us had become increasingly nervous as the date drew nearer. It was for this reason that I assumed Miranda hadn't returned my call, or answered my messages today. But I wasn't worried. I was determined to look good tonight, if possible so that as soon as she saw me she would be tempted to whisk me away right there and then, so I dressed in a slinky black dress. Simple, understated and classic – elegance, thy name is Andrea. I wanted to do her proud as I stepped onto the stage next to her in just a few short hours. My hands were already shaking, so I was secretly thankful that I'd arranged for stylists to do my hair and make-up.

We had agreed that we would meet in the lobby, and that's where I was when I saw her stepping out of her car, helped by a smartly dressed driver. I frowned. Why was her _driver_ holding out his hand for her to hold? And why the hell was she taking it?

She walked towards me, her mouth tightening a little when she saw my face. As they entered the building together, still holding hands, she muttered something in his ear and he nodded. Smiling at her, he walked straight past me into the main ballroom. We were alone, but there was so much opportunity for anyone to walk in on us, so she had no choice but to drag me through a tiny door that I hadn't even noticed. We were in a closet.

"Who the FUCK is that?"

"Andrea, calm down-"

"Calm down? Are you serious? No I will NOT calm down, you're my girlfriend and you're here with some model that hasn't looked at your face once since you stepped out the car, he's far too enamoured with 8 inches below it!"

"Listen to me." She said slowly, "I cannot and will not do this with you. Not here. Tonight is not the time for us to come out." She suddenly looked a little desperate. "Please, can't you just be my assistant until we go home?"

"Do you hear yourself? It's okay for me to run around after you, for you to treat me like crap, and then we go back to your house in separate cars so no one knows? I won't be your dirty little secret anymore, Miranda. Fuck you."

I extracted myself from the vice like grip she had on my hand and ran for all I was worth until I was outside, far enough away that she couldn't cause a scene by shouting after me or chasing me.

I hailed a cab. And when I got home, I simply sat for a while, contemplating.

What the fuck had I expected?


	10. Chapter 10

I'd had enough. My bags were packed full of beach clothing and swimwear, none of it designer. I was more than prepared for the two weeks I was legally entitled to under the "compassion" clause in my contract. Of course, this had to be approved from my boss, something I had gained without any of the drama I had expected. Then again, I doubted she wanted people knowing exactly _why_ I needed this compassionate leave from my demanding job. Emily was furious. After all, in my position she had managed to continue her work and probably gave herself some form of tumour in the process with the amount of stress she had dealt with on a day to day basis by enduring unrequited love from the very woman who would look at her as though she didn't exist, or even matter.

To Miranda, Emily didn't. I'd spent enough of my time wondering why I thought I should be any different and was still coming up blank when I found myself booking a holiday. A villa, a pool, a bar... all of it for my own personal use. No disturbance. No signal or internet for my phone. I would be free, with a suntan and a cocktail. The first smile I had had in weeks graced my tired features as I grabbed my passport and left for the airport. First class plane ride, here I come!

Three days in, I was finally beginning to rid myself of the knots in my back, and that seemingly permanent headache. There's nothing more refreshing than mostly being drunk in a pool for the majority of the day. Lounging around in the swimming pool, I was surprised to hear knocking from the front of my villa. I hadn't had a disturbance once while I had been here and it had been pure bliss – for one wild moment my heart imagined Miranda standing at the door in all her glory, begging for me to take her back.

What I actually saw was far from my imagination; in fact the man standing before me was incredibly mundane. I chided myself for being unnecessarily harsh, but at that moment in time I didn't care.

"Ms Sachs?"

"Yes, that's me. Can I help you?"

It became obvious that he worked for the company who owned the villas, likely someone from the hotel not far from where I was.

"I work in Paros Bay Hotel, and we have had repeated calls for a woman named Andrea Sachs from someone very insistent that you speak to her urgently. We were informed that if we did not find you, she would have us all fired – I'm sorry to bother you, Ms Sachs, but she sounded like she had the power to do so..." His voice trailed off and he looked at me in fear, clearly expecting the same form of treatment. I couldn't help but sigh at the return of my headache.

"Would this woman by any chance be Miranda Priestly?" He nodded fiercely.

"Well..." I read his name badge, "Stavros, I'm sorry for the trouble she must have put you through. I'm afraid I know exactly what you're going through – that woman is the reason I'm here in the first place – and I do not wish to speak to her at all."

I was about to elaborate that, if she should call again, he should give her this message with my insistence that no staff be blamed for my refusal, but he cut me off.

"She said you'd say that, Ms Sachs. She said if that was the case, she would be coming here herself to speak to you in person."

I scoffed. As if she would ever go to such extremes, what would her precious magazine do without her?

"She sounded serious, Miss!"

"If – when – she calls again, Stavros, give her my message and insist that she is not to come anywhere near this island. Understood?"

The man nodded, visibly upset, and left. After that, another 3 days passed, and with it, my worries involving Miranda began to evaporate once more.

I woke up at the end of my first week in heaven, showering and dressing in real day clothes for the first time in days; I had spent most of my time in my bikinis in the pool, but I had finally decided to venture out into the quaint little town just a few minutes' walk from my villa. Mainly because I was fast running out of alcohol. And food, of course. Funny, the order of preference I had obtained since my arrival. I had only planned to grab items from the nearest stall or store in plain sight, but I soon found myself immersed in the beauty of the island, entranced by glimpses of the vast ocean as I purchased things I both needed and wanted and engrossed in the limitless variety of intoxicating aromas surrounding me. I arrived at my villa no less than three hours I had left, smiling at how the time had escaped my notice. It seemed, however, time wasn't the only thing that had escaped my notice. It wasn't until I had stepped into the cool air of the villa that I noticed something was wrong. For one thing, I had been sure to close all the windows – the air should have been ridiculously stuffy, relevant to the now-midday humidity. For another, the windows weren't the only thing that were open. The doors which led to my pool were also wide open, held back by the ornaments used to keep them in place.

"Oh for crying out loud." I muttered.

"My mother used to tell me that I would get locked away for talking to myself. You should think about that, Andrea."

And there it was. That lilting, British accent over my name. My headache was back.

"Did she never tell you that you'd be locked away for _breaking into people's homes_?" I shot back furiously. "It seems to be a habit you've gained."

She kept her voice level. "With you, it seems it's necessary."

Only then did she step out of the shadows, revealing herself to be wearing a simple summer dress with minimal accessories. Her face, for the first time since I had met her, looked tired, and while her hair was mostly in place, it was obvious she had been running her fingers through it. Something she did only in the height of stress.

"What is it you want, Miranda." I couldn't even bring myself to make it a question, she had drained all the anger I was holding onto so quickly, with just one look at her. If she looked like she did because she had been thinking about me, then I had clearly struck a chord with her. Shame she had to ruin my life quite so often, really.

"I quit _Runway_."

My head snapped up to meet her gaze for the first time.

"I told my daughters about how much I love you, and that I was coming here to get you back. I told them that I wouldn't be working anymore, and that if you would ever forgive me, I wanted you to live with us. Their reaction was beyond any of my expectations, Andrea. They already liked you, it seems." She smiled a little before continuing, "They were only the first step, darling. Please believe me; I'm ready to tell everyone. The whole world will soon be clear on the reason I no longer work at _Runway_ – you."

I couldn't help it. I flew at her, almost knocking her over with the force of my kiss. It didn't matter anymore, nothing did. She was finally mine, there would be no more late nights, no more ridiculous events for which she would ask me to play her assistant role... I could live with her. This was it, it was real. No more games, no more running away.

These thoughts were consuming me, distracting me from the fact that she was still in my arms until she reversed the power. Before my brain understood what was happening, her arms were around me, pulling me towards the doorway she had appeared from, what seemed like so long ago. And it was, I supposed. A different lifetime, even.

We fell into the bed I had claimed as my own for the past week, and for the first time in a while, I was completely lost in the power she had over me. After we had been having sex for a few weeks in our relationship, I had become increasingly dominant – and here she was, making me feel as though I was six and she had let me win at a board game. I smirked at the thought for a moment until I felt her mouth reach – "ohh my god..."

My fists clenched at the sheets and she worked her tongue, gently at first, then building up a momentum as I held back my moans. I couldn't for long though; the feel of her nails and teeth was enough to send me over the edge with a shriek.

I returned the favour, of course.

A week of pure bliss, most of which was spent in the bedroom, or the pool – or, now I came to think of it, the shower, the kitchen... anywhere with a floor or a wall, actually.

"Ready to go back and announce to the world that you're more than willing to have a relationship with Miranda 'three divorces' Priestly? The Ice Queen? The Devil in Prada?"

Laughing, I replied "As long as the world knows that I'm the first one that can make her scream, or cry like a baby with a few well chosen words or touches."

"Maybe you could leave that last part out. I have a reputation to uphold. After all, we'll still be invited to all the _Runway_ events – only now, we'll all be watching in awe as Emily descends the stairs."

"I'll still be looking at you. Always."

"Then welcome to the rest of our lives, Andrea. I love you."

_**AN: **_THE ENNDDD!

_**Thank you for reading, I very much hope you enjoyed. And yes I am aware that it's a cheesy film ending but I just do not care! I might have to get writing another Mirandy fic, I think I'll miss this one now it's done, so keep an eye out for me! Any reviews would be greatly appreciated so the next fic can be better once I take criticism onboard Lots of love! xx**_


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